When things become cloudy
by Sapphire1112
Summary: One shot. Based on 'Faternity' I do not own the characters or the episode 'Fraternity'..


_"You don't follow your heart, Jack. You follow the evidence."_

 **Jack**

She's right. I know she is. I think back to before, when she came to see me at my flat. She came because she was worried about me. I've been alienating myself from them all ever since I realised that my brother was involved. Nikki's words and the ensuing, stinging remark I made at her as she flounced out the flat, painfully reverberate in my mind - because it was _me_ that I stung with it.

I know it wasn't her fault - she didn't understand then, because I wouldn't let her. The two people - Nikki and Clarissa, who are normally my 'go-to' when I have something to confide, didn't get a look in this time. I didn't want to let _anyone_ in - I don't know why, except, it's _my_ guilt. Not theirs. Nikki came to see me to give me another chance to confide in her, because she cares and she _wanted_ to understand, yet I continued to shut her out. I don't feel that I deserve her understanding and that remark I made was meant to push her even further away.

It stung me because I'd _finally_ convinced my best friend that I'm not worth bothering with. I'm not. I'm not a good man and I don't deserve friends like her and Clarissa, no matter how much I want them. It really stung, so here I am in the gym taking out my pain on a punch bag - the only way I know. If I don't ever see them again it will be better for them. I've lost my job and my friends, so now my brother is all I've got.

I vaguely hear Nikki's voice in the background, but there is no reason why she would come here, so I ignore it. Until she appears in front of me that is, and then I stop, because I nearly hit her by accident.

She _still_ cares for some reason that I can't fathom and wasn't satisfied that I'm bad news, so she began digging, until she discovered my secret. I want to yell at her and hug her at the same time. I'm not a good man and she should run away from me as fast as she can, but part of me is relieved that she knows and I wish I'd confided in her. I ask her what I should do - because at this point, I just _don't_ _know_ anymore. I should have _known_ she wouldn't give up on me until she understood. She's like death and bloody taxes, sometimes. She's so sharp. She'll cut herself one day.

 _"You don't follow your heart, Jack. You look at the evidence."_

So I look over the evidence again. Because she's right.

 **Nikki**

 _"Nikki, it all comes down to one thing - do we trust him?"_

 _"Do I trust him?"_

 _"Yeah"_

 _"Yes!"_

 _"And ideally you'd like him to stay?"_

 _Do I trust him?_ Yes. I trust Jack - more than _anyone_ else. He's struggling with this case because his brother has been/is a suspect. Surely you can understand that, Thomas?

 _No_. I think later, when I get that phone call from Thomas. This _can't_ be happening. Jack _can't_ be in intensive care - Thomas has got it wrong. Thomas is mistaken. My Jack is alive and well, _conscious_. _Unharmed_.

Except, what if he _isn't_? What if Thomas, God forbid, is right? I have to go to the hospital, just in case - and I'm terrified of what awaits me there.

 _"Where is he?"_

 _"In here"_

I want to scream. It _is_ Jack and I've never seen him like that before. _Helpless_ , completely helpless, his life ebbing away before my eyes. His strong, muscley body, limp and bruised. My best friend, my _protector_ , he should have had someone there to protect _him_ \- he should of had _me_ there with him. He was walking around a dark graveyard at night on his own and I was warm in the office trying to convince Thomas not to fire him. _Damn_ Thomas, but right now I'll settle for Jack being _alive_.

I gaze at him through the door and I still can't believe that's him lying there, I want my mind to be playing tricks ion me. I want him to walk out of that room and tell me they made a mistake. But they haven't and he doesn' 's him alright. That's my Jack and all I can do right now is sigh - and hope.

We're sat here waiting because we can't _do_ anything else. We just have to wait - and I can't stand it. Clarissa's here but we don't have time to speak to her, because the doctor comes with the news. _The news we've been waiting for._

 _"Ok, he's stable. Still unconscious and ventilated."_

Damn them Damn whoever did this to him. I need _more_ though. I need to know _how_ _badly_ hurt he is.

 _"Damage?"_

 _"Fractured tibia and clavicle. He's lung function's compromised at present..."_

I'm _frightened_ now, scared of losing him because it sounds serious - he can't _breathe_ on his own and being a doctor myself makes it all the worse, because her words _mean_ something to me.. My own breath catches in the back of my throat and makes me gasp for air as the doctor in front of me continues.

 _"...but the main concern is the head injury - possible hypoxic brain damage...haematoma."_

I glance at Clarissa and Thomas with terror in my eyes as she finishes.

 _"We're gonna watch and wait. Hopefully he'll stabilise further, then theatre."_

This is horrible. Even if he gets through this, he might not be _my_ _Jack_ anymore or worse - he might just stay in a coma. I can't cope with the thought, but Clarissa interrupts it anyway.

 _"An operation's not going to be good for forensics, is it..."_

Right now, Clarissa, I don't care about _Forensics_ \- I only care about Jack's recovery.

She continues, _"...or pathology."_

I could slap her for that. I have the utmost respect for Clarissa. She's brilliant and a good friend - especially since Leo died, but I could slap her for that. For suggesting that he might die.

"There is _no_ pathology - mercifully. There is no _body_." I answer as politely as I can, but Clarissa has other ideas. I stare through the door at him again as she comments:

 _"There is, actually."_

The ante-mortem was Clarissa's idea - and she's right. It's what Jack would choose if he was awake. He'd want us to stop at nothing to catch his attacker, after all, whoever attacked him also killed Hannah. I constantly tell myself he is _lucky_ \- we are all lucky. Lucky that we are doing Jack's _'ante-mortem'_ rather than his _'post-mortem'_. It could have so easily have been his 'post-mortem', I know that, but 'ante-mortem' still contains the word _'mort'_ and 'mort' means _'death'_ , I'm having trouble shaking that off. We go in to do the ante-mortem on Jack. I _try_ to prepare myself for what I'm about to see. I _know_ his injuries are awful, but close up is so much worse than I imagined. There is _nothing_ that can prepare you for seeing your best friend like that - and I just want to _scream_.

He looks broken - and not just his arm and leg. He looks bruised, beaten. Slain.

I want to _kill_ the man (if it was a man) that did this to him. I know I can't. But I want too.

Thomas tried to hand me the Dictaphone, but I don't take it. At this point I'm in shock and if I open my mouth, all the Dictaphone would record is me screaming. Thomas seems to know that I can't start this right now, so he starts it for me.

 _"Extensive contusions of the face and neck...likewise to the entire torso. From x-ray - fractured right_ _clavicle, fractured right tibia."_

Jack would want _me_ to do this, not Thomas. I'm his best friend and Jack would want me to do this if he was awake. He trusts me to do it and he knows I will do it as thoroughly as I possibly can, because it's _him_. I know I _have_ to do this, for him, for Jack, no matter how hard it is, and so I take over from Thomas with the Dictaphone. My voice trembling a little as I describe the horrendous sight of my unconscious best friend. I touch his face gently, every fibre of my being hoping he can feel my hand on his face, hoping he knows I'm there. He's in there somewhere.

 _"Mud and soil covering the face and head, possibly from where he was found. Not possible to see_ _from this examination which injuries were caused by the impact...and which, by any subsequent_ _maltreatment."_

I hope he can hear my voice. I stroke his face, desperately _willing_ his eyes to open and look at me - to tell me that this has all been some sort of sick joke. I won't be angry, just as long as he opens his eyes. But he doesn't.

 _"Some bleeding from the knuckles on his right hand.."_

I stroke his hand, his bruised knuckles. He put up a fight. My poor Jack, fighting to stay alive, as someone tried to kill him. I _need_ you to fight this too, Jack. I know I asked you to stop fighting, but I need you to _fight_ _like_ _hell_ from inside.

 _"And marks on his neck...consistent with a ligature being applied."_

I have trouble overcoming the lump that rises in my throat and I fear I might be sick. They didn't _just_ hit him with a car. They didn't _just_ beat him - they tried to _garrotte_ him as well. I glance at Thomas in horror. They did _this_ to him because he _knew_ something. I glance at the doctor.

 _"Brief examination to his mouth?"_

She nods and I begin unscrewing the oxygen tube. We have to do it carefully and it must remain in his mouth because it's the only thing keeping him breathing at the moment, but my hands are shaking, so Thomas takes over.I hold the tube in place, while I examine Jack's mouth. I honestly never thought I'd be here.

 _"Have you got some tweezers?"_

There's something in his mouth. With Thomas's help, I n carefully manage to extract it.

 _"what's this?"_

 _"Too gag him? It'd take more than that! He's bitten it off deliberately."_

I can't help but smile slightly at that. That's my Jack.

The ante-mortem is finished suddenly by alarms. I watch it terror as he's wheeled away to theatre. All I can do is trust doctors here to save him, while I wait. Wait for him to live or wait for him to die. It's the _longest_ night of my life.

He remains unconscious after he comes out of recovery. Thomas drags me to the cafe for coffee at one point. I don't want _coffee_ and I'm in a hurry to get back, but Clarissa wants some time with him on her own. Thomas and I spend the rest of the night by his bedside after she's gone home. We both fall asleep, awkwardly in uncomfortable hospital chairs at intervals - only to wake suddenly with aching necks and _no_ change in Jack's condition. In the early hours, we're both awake and I sit on Jack's bed, watching him. Watching the man I love - because he's my best friend and I _do_ love him with all my heart. I'm _helpless_ to do anything for him.

 _"Did you talk to Helen?"_

I don't _want_ Jack to leave, but I just want him to _survive_ and be _my_ _Jack_ again at this point. Helen's nice and if she helps to find Jack's attacker, then she earns my respect.

 _"About?"_

 _"Staying?"_

Thomas nods. I look at Jack, the machine still breathing for him.

 _"And now?"_

 _"And now, I feel disloyal."_

Thomas answers. He's torn between Helen and Jack.

I know what _torn_ feels like. Somehow, Thomas persuaded me to come back to the Lyell. I _want_ to find Jack's attacker and I know that if Jack could tell me, that's what he's say, that's what he'd tell me to do, but my heart is still by Jack's bedside at the hospital and that is where I _want_ to be right now.

The hospital called. Jack's woken up. Part of me wanted to be there when he woke up.-The _only_ reason I agreed to leave the hospital before he woke up was because he started breathing on his own again and the doctor said he was out of the woods.

We did catch his attacker though, so at least I know that Jack is safe from _that_ _man_. This is the _hardest_ case I have ever worked on. _Jack_ had trouble being objective because his brother was involved. It became cloudy for me to, when Jack got hurt and nearly died.

It's hard to focus when things get cloudy.


End file.
